“No—surely not… You can’t be serious, right? Divorce? You don’t mean it, do you?”

“…….”

“Are you telling me that she—that quiet, gentle lady—was the one who suggested divorce?’ That makes no sense at all. She wasn’t the type to raise her voice in an argument.”

Rob Beisler looked utterly shocked, as though the idea were completely impossible.

Callios nodded slowly, as though this reaction were entirely natural.

“I thought so too. Until now.”

He had hit her, but he was more taken aback by her reaction than she was by his blow. She had always been the kind of woman who was soft-spoken, yielding and easily intimidated.

So why now? Why was she suddenly acting like a completely different person?

It was as if something monumental had happened to her, prompting her to change entirely.

After a moment’s thought, Callios spoke again, his expression hardening.

“Summon the vassal houses.”

“…What?”

“Those rats won’t all be hiding inside the duchy. We’ll root out the ones outside as well.”

While Rosie was dealing with internal affairs, he planned to cut off the external forces supporting Isabella and Pante.

However, this alone would not be enough. He intended to crush them completely.

Callios raked a hand through his black hair, which fell across his straight forehead. Irritation flickered across his features.

“I should have done this sooner. But because of that damned promise—”

“…You don’t mean that damned promise with His Majesty— cough, cough!”

Rob Beisler slapped a hand over his mouth and glanced around frantically. Thankfully, the few knights following behind him hadn’t heard. He lowered his voice further and spoke in a hurried whisper.

“You intend to overturn it now? But there’s no evidence yet.”

“No. I’ll only observe for the moment.”

Sending scouts would be enough to panic those people. Callios’s lips curled into a cold, thin smile.

“Letting them wither slowly… will be an excellent lesson.”

“…I would never want to make an enemy of you, Your Grace.”

Rob Beisler, tongue-tied, looked from the oncoming horse to the servant rushing toward them.

“It seems to be a messenger from the duchy… He’s heading this way. What could it be?”

Callios also spotted the man approaching and his expression turned frigid.

‘That rat again.’

It was Isabella’s personal servant, the one who had always been an eyesore. Id. Or something close to that.

‘I thought he served Isabella. Why is he suddenly…’

Recently, however, the man had been acting as though he were Rosie’s loyal underling.

Ide caught sight of Callios and flinched, then scrambled down from his horse. He immediately pressed his forehead into the dusty ground.

“My lady has sent an urgent message for Baron Beisler.”

“The duchess? To me? Not to His Grace?”

Rob could feel Callios’s gaze growing colder by the second. It was a miracle in itself that his lord wasn’t tearing the world apart after hearing the word ‘divorce’, and now this!

Rob fumbled, unable to look Callios in the eye.

“N-no, I mean… Why now? And why me of all people—!”

“I do not know, sir. She said it was a private matter that could only be spoken of face-to-face, in utmost secrecy.”

Beside him, a voice colder than winter seeped into the air.

“Something urgent… and ‘private,’ you say.”

Ide shuddered as Rob swallowed hard.

Callios’s voice was always intimidating, but today it sounded as though it had crawled straight out of h*ll.

With a smile that wasn’t a smile at all, Callios said:

“My wife seems very interested in other men these days.”

“N-no! Your Grace! I would never—! A lowly man like me could never catch the eye of the noble duchess—”

Rob protested miserably, but Callios ignored him. He turned his attention to Id instead, his gaze sharp enough to cut skin.

“And I would like to know… what this ‘private matter’ is.”

***

At that same moment, Rosie was quietly admiring the garden, unaware of the chaos that her message had caused.

Perhaps because of Callios’s offer, she was reminded of the once modest and peaceful Moavis estate.

‘That garden must be withered by now… abandoned, fallen into ruin.’

The thought alone stung. That place held the remnants of all those happy Moavis days.

‘My childhood is still there too.’

It was in that garden that she first met Callios. As usual, she and her older sister were playing pretend when she heard a rustling sound and saw the illegitimate son of the duke trampling through her flowers.

She remembered looking up at the noise and meeting his fierce, unknowable black eyes. Even now, the memory was painfully vivid.

A soft breeze cooled her flushed cheek as birds chirped overhead.

‘Yes… he was always like that.’
‘Violent.’

Every ‘first’ with Callios was the same. Their first kiss, their wedding night — all marred by the stench of blood.

Suddenly, the sound of someone stomping through her garden interrupted her thoughts.

There was a hurried, frantic clatter of heels.

“Rosie! You—come here this instant! What on earth is going on?!”

Her mother-in-law, Isabella, was practically running, clutching her dress in both hands, dignity forgotten.

“What is the meaning of this! How dare you cut off my source of money?”

Callios’s personal knights were stationed outside every treasury and storage room in the duchy. Isabella’s attendants, who had always treated these places as their own domains, were thrown out without exception.

Anything that could be seized was seized, including the vaults and parts of the former duke’s inheritance. All of this was accomplished within half a day.

Rosie’s first priority was to stop the biggest leak in the duchy.

With a calm demeanor, she gestured towards a seat at the tea table. Folding her hands neatly in her lap, she faced the furious Isabella.

“I reviewed the financial ledgers I hadn’t been allowed to see before, and far too many entries had no clear source. I’m verifying everything—albeit belatedly—so I ask for your cooperation, Mother.”

In name, it was cooperation; in substance, it was coercion.

Rosie was pressuring Isabella using nothing more than her rightful authority as the lady of the ducal house.

Isabella’s eyes sparkled with fury.

“You insolent wretch! Are you trying to rule this house as you please?”

Rosie answered in the same calm tone.

“Rule? I’m only fulfilling my duties.”

“Duties? Your only duty is to do what I tell you!”

Rosie regarded her with an expression utterly devoid of fear.

The woman who had once terrified her now seemed laughably small.

Back then, every blow in that oppressive room had made her tremble. She hadn’t been able to resist even once.

Only now did she understand how their violence had grown — quietly and cunningly. At first, they had been cautious, but the moment they realized that Rosie wouldn’t resist or report them, their fear vanished.

Violence bred more violence, each incident becoming more vicious. But this time was different.

Rosie Benedict, who had always suffered in silence, was finally fighting back. Standing behind her was Callios, who had taken to staying on the estate and had changed the balance of power.

“You must be blind. Have you lost your senses?”

“You’re right, Mother. I’ve stopped being blind—”

Rosie let out a small laugh and met Isabella’s furious gaze.

“—and now, I intend to become the master.”

As long as she remained here, as long as she lived, she would be the master of her own life.

Isabella looked at her as if she were insane. But, unlike before, she didn’t strike. She didn’t dare.

Not while Callios was on the estate. And, more importantly…

“So something did happen while I wasn’t looking. You’ve spent a little time in the duchy, and now you think you can behave like a ducal mistress?”

Isabella leaned in close, sneering. Her thin, slitted eyes sharpened, hostility glinting within.

“Go on, then. Let’s see how far a little nobody like you can get.”

Rosie frowned at the strong, powdery scent of Isabella’s breath.

Noticing her reaction, Isabella laughed mockingly and pinched her cheek.

“If this is how you want to play, then I have ways of my own.”

Rosie smiled back, unshaken, her voice composed.

“And I’m quite curious to see what those are.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Isabella stepped back, leaving faint red marks on Rosie’s cheek, like the trail of a small venomous snake.

“That ugly face of yours will only grow uglier.”

Rosie answered with a serene smile that showed not the slightest wound.

“You should worry more about your own skin, Mother. You’ll need to economize now.”

The meek little lamb of the Count’s household — the girl who had never once talked back — looked nothing like the woman before her now.

Isabella’s perfectly arched eyebrows twisted together in anger.

“There is absolutely no need to worry about such a thing. It will never happen, so rest assured.”

“Once more, Mother, the ducal household will be enforcing strict austerity for the time being. I ask for your cooperation.”

“Cooperation? What nonsense.”

Isabella turned on her heel and left, raising an eyebrow. Once she had gone, Rosie asked Jenny to summon the chief steward.

It was the same ledger that he had previously shown to Callios.

He placed the heavy book on the tea table and quietly offered Rosie a pair of white cotton gloves.

“Your delicate hands may be stained with ink, my lady.”

Rosie blinked and looked up at him in surprise. In her previous life, he had never shown her so much as the slightest hint of warmth. He had been utterly cold — almost merciless.

“I never knew Johanssen possessed such attentiveness.”

“I simply never had the opportunity to show it to you, my lady.”

Even his tone was unexpectedly affable, with a hint of playful humility.

Rosie let out a soft laugh.

“Then show it plenty now. You’ll have many chances from here on.”

She slipped on the white gloves he offered her, then sank deep into her chair, ready to properly examine the ledger.

“Chief Steward, I admit I don’t know how to read some of this. I’ll need your help.”

“Yes, my lady.”

He began to guide her patiently through checking each missing expenditure item. Rosie lifted her teacup halfway, then stopped abruptly.

“…Why did you pause, my lady?”